


A Very Fitz-Simmons Christmas

by jadesolo



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, SHIELD Academy, ooh Christmas!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5106026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadesolo/pseuds/jadesolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Fitzsimmons first Christmas together-except they're not planning on spending it together. But when a snow storm makes any and all flights to England and Scotland impossible, Fitz and Simmons must come to terms with the fact that they have to spend Christmas together-and it works out fine, until they realize they can't figure out what to get each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Fitz-Simmons Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Originally written and July, but ended up becoming a prompt on Tumblr for cosmiclaras. I tried to make sure everything was okay timeline wise, but I may have made a mistake somewhere. Comments are appreciated!

_December 18, 2005_

 

Snow blanketed the exterior of the Sci-Tech building and even parts of its' interior as well, having been tracked in by excited students that were counting down the days until Christmas break began and they could all go home and relax, after months of tireless work and exams.

The only two students who didn't realize it was almost Christmas, it seemed, was Jemma Simmons and Leopold Fitz. The biochemist and engineer hadn't bothered looking at a calendar in a few days, too wrapped up in their projects, exams and arguments. Their most recent argument had been over their attempts to create a non-lethal weapon for S.H.I.E.L.D agents to carry around with them. Jemma had proposed a smaller device to put the dyndrotoxin into, the device that Fitz insisted on calling “the Night-Night gun”, but he protested that in order for the dyndrotoxin to work twice as well, the bullets-and thus the pistol itself-had to be bigger.

However, having taken a break from their work, both Fitz and Simmons had collapsed onto Fitz's small and rather ragged looking couch that he'd grabbed from the dumpster a month or so before he met Simmons. Despite the raggedness of his couch, and the dirty laundry all over the floor (though currently stashed in a corner, after a mad frenzy trying to clean up when Simmons had called him up earlier, informing him she'd be over in twenty minutes or so to study, because her heating had gone hay-wire), Simmons seemed to almost _like_ Fitz's dorm.

After enjoying a long moment of comfortable and relaxing silence after such a long debate, Simmons' eyes rested on the calender that remained on Fitz's desk. “Oh my goodness,” Simmons cried, sitting up, jerking Fitz awake, who had almost leaned forward completely on Simmons' shoulder as he dozed.

“What the hell-?” Fitz muttered, rubbing gunk out of his eyes.

“Fitz!” Simmons' voice, though always slightly high-pitched, had gone up several octaves, to a near childish squeal. “It's almost Christmas!”

Fitz followed Simmons' gaze and found that his partner was indeed right; it was only seven days until December 25th. Almost instantly, he thought of home; the small little flat his mother lived in, with her tiny table-top Christmas tree, the small amount of gifts under it and the lovely smell of apple and cinammon. The smell of Christmas.

“I haven't made any plans to go home yet,” Simmons realized, standing up and grabbing her mobile. “I can't believe Mum and Dad haven't called me already.”

As she said this, it made Fitz realize he too had not heard from his mother. Worriedly, he stood up and grabbed his own mobile, punching the speed-dial number for home. It rang for a good minute or two before his mother answered, her intense Scottish accent filling the other side of the line.

“ _Leo_!” she cried happily, and Fitz could almost imagine the broad smile on his mother's face whenever she saw or talked to him after a long while. “ _How are things at the Academy? Are you still friends with that Simmons girl? She seemed lovely! Are you coming home for Christmas? I understand if you can't, what with weather and expenses, but I miss you so much, Leo.”_

Fitz took an involuntary breath on his mother's behalf, as she managed all that in a single breath. His mother had the tendacy to babble without stopping to take a breath, which reminded him of another person who was currently on the phone with her own family. “I miss you too,” he replied earnestly. “And I especially miss your cooking.”

“ _Are they not feeding you enough? They should know better, I told them about our families history of low blood sugar-”_

“Don't worry, Mum. Simmons is keeping an eye on me. Her mum's a nurse, you know.”

“ _Oh, really? Well that's comforting to know.”_ He could hear his mother's relief even from over the phone. “ _Is she there with you?”_

“Yeah,” Fitz answered, glancing over at his friend. “She's on the phone with her parents.”

“ _Well when she gets off, tell her I said hello.”_

Fitz quickly promised he would and after catching his mother up on what she missed, he informed her that he would be back home for Christmas by Tuesday or possibly Wednesday.

“ _Isn't that too soon? Have you got a flight yet, Leopold? Do I need to get you a-”_

“No!” Fitz cried a little too quickly, making Simmons look up and making him feel like an utter jerk to his mother. He had a horrible habit of saying things in the most awful way. “I'm sorry, Mum, that came out too harsh. But no, I've got the ticket settled.” _I hope,_ he added quietly.

“ _Oh, good. Do you need to go? You sound tired, you're not working too hard are you?”_

After about five minutes of hearing his mother worry and lecture him on staying up late, Fitz got in one last 'love you' and 'goodbye' and hung up. Simmons, having finished her call a few minuets before him, was sitting on the couch. “It's strange,” she remarked. “Going back home. I kind of feel like this is home.” She made a sweeping gesture toward Fitz's dirty dorm, but he knew what she meant. After so long, Sci-Tech _had_ started to feel like home.

“I know,” Fitz agreed, slumping down next to her. “But we'll be back soon, right?”

“Yeah and I'm kind of excited to see my siblings again,” Jemma said, beaming. Fitz recalled her having mentioned two brothers and a sister. He couldn't imagine having grown up in such a noisy house-hold. When he was seven years old, he used to play by himself, running around wearing a far too big scarf and hat atop of his curls, pretending he was the Doctor-

“Oh bloody hell,” Fitz breathed, grinning. “Simmons, what happens next Saturday?”

“Christmas Eve,” Simmons answered instantly, her nose scrunched up. “Fitz, are you alright? I just said Christmas is next Sunday-”

“No! Not just Christmas Eve!” Fitz groaned, embarassed by his best friend's neligence. “The _Doctor Who_ Christmas special!”

“Oh, Fitz!” Simmons sighed, shaking her head. Simmons wasn't a die-hard fan like Fitz was, merely a casual fan who had only seen a few episodes of the classic series, and more than a few of the new series (not by choice). “You're seriously going to look forward to a television show more than a trip back home?”

“Simmons,” Fitz said patiently, “watching _Doctor Who_ at Christmas has been a tradition back at home before they even decided to a Christmas special this year. And besides, it features the first episode of our first official Scottish Doctor!”

“I thought the Seventh Doctor was Scottish?”

Fitz frowned. “He had a bit of Scottish accent, I'll admit. But this David Tennant guy is actually Scottish! From Scotland!”

“Will he have the accent on the show?”

“He should. I think it's bloody time for a Scottish Doctor.”

 

\\\\\

 

_December 19_ _th_ _, 2005_

 

_Bang, bang, BANG!_

Fitz rolled fitfully in his sleep, arm flailing to hit the 'snooze' button, groggy from sleep and desperately needing but five more minutes of peaceful sleep. But no matter how many times he hit the snooze button, the noise would not stop. After a moment, Fitz realized that the banging was actually coming from his dorm-room door.

Finally, he actually opened his bleary eyes and his gaze landed on his alarm clock; _6:29am_ it read in cheerful, neon green letters that most certainly did not match its' owner's current attitude. “Who in the name of sanity,” he muttered to himself-not particuarly concerned about it because he used to do this all the time-as he marched sleepily to the door. He opened it to find Jemma Simmons standing on the otherside, fully dressed, hair pulled back and her cheeks pink.

“Simmons, what the _hell_ are you doing up at such an ungodly hour?” Fitz demanded, glaring at his best friend.

“We're stuck!” She announced, looking downright miserable.

“What?”

She took a deep breath. “I was watching the news, and there's a dreadful snowstorm coming in! All flights have been cancelled, Fitz! We can't get home!”

“You can't always trust the news, Simmons. Sometimes the weather men are wrong-”

“Check outside.”

Given the tone of her voice, Fitz obeyed and peaked outside his window. Sure enough, the snow level had risen over the night and given the drop of temperature, even in Fitz's heavily heated dorm room, he had to admit it seemed as if the weathermen were indeed right. There was a snowstorm on the horizon.

Meaning that he and Jemma Simmons would be stuck together on Christmas.

 

\\\\\\\\\\\\\

 

_December 20th, 2005_

 

Jemma always lived by a schedule. Wake up at five forty five in the morning. Excerise, drink tea. Get a head start on studying. She excelled at prepration. She had every single gift bought and wrapped already for her parents and siblings, all safe in her freezing cold dorm room. But of course, nature had a way of making a fool of her plans. And so, for the first time in her life, Jemma Simmons was a last minute shopper.

She glanced around the busy mall. It was crowed with fellow last-minute shoppers, all bustling about, shopping bags in their arms, all of whom were looking around frantically for those perfect gifts. She wished she knew what to get for her best friend. She hadn't bothered trying to find Fitz a gift before, because what good would it have done? He would've been in Scotland, her in England. But now?

She groaned, plopping down on the nearest bench. She had known Fitz for several months, but had no idea what he would've liked for Christmas. A new set of tools? That was too boring and dull. And besides, he had enough tools that he would be set for life. So what on earth was she going to buy him?

Jemma walked through several department stores, looking through the many different button ups and ties, but found nothing important enough to give him. She even debated buying him a toy stuffed monkey, but decided to keep that as a last resort.

Just as she was about to call it quits, Jemma found herself standing in a comic book store. She wasn't entirely sure how she ended up there or why, but it was a nice and quaint shop,so she decided to browse around. The woman behind the register gave her a warm smile and a wave, which Jemma quickly returned. She wasn't a huge fan of comics, but she did like _Harry Potter,_ and was pleased when she found a decent enough display, including some figurines of Hermione, Harry and Ron.

Though she was buying for Fitz and not herself, she nabbed the Hermione figurine and was about to turn to pay for it when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She made her way toward it, inspecting it and the display around it, checking for other items that might best the one she'd spotten. However, none did and so, smiling, Jemma took it and the Hermione figurine up to the cash register, grinning broadly.

Maybe this trip wouldn't be such a bloody waste after all....

 

///

 

_December 21_ _st_ _, 2005_

 

What was he going to do?

Fitz felt as if he was going mad. He'd made a list of things Simmons had mentioned she'd liked over the past few days, or things he remembered from the past few months, hoping to come across a perfect gift. But so far, he hadn't.

Which was how he ended up at the mall.

_The mall._

Fitz hated shopping; absolutely dreaded it, unless it was in a tool or book store. But yet here he was, looking through stores that most certainly did not carry tools nor books. He browsed through several rows of scarves for about twenty minutes before remembering he'd never seen Simmons in a scarf, and had promptly left that store, which seemed to have been comprised of nothing _but_ scarves.

After two hours later of pointless wandering, Fitz found himself back at the Academy, in his dorm, pacing as he thought wildly. How could he face Simmons that Sunday if he didn't have a present for her? What on Earth could he possibly get her?

He groaned, and angrily threw a pillow from the floor onto the couch, narrowly avoiding a picture of his mother and himself on his graduation day.

_Mum....._

Fitz searched desperately for his mobile and quickly grabbed it, dialing the third most used number. “Aunt Amelia? I need your help with something.......”

 

\\\\\

_December 25 th, 2005_

 

Jemma glanced at the carefully wrapped gift in her messenger bag. She'd wrapped it and re-wrapped it twice that morning, always the perfectionist. There was going to be a Christmas party at the Boiler Room today, for those unfortuante students who'd been grounded by the snowstorm, which was going full-blast outside. She was planning on stopping by Fitz's apartment (having taken great care to wait until seven thirty to actually start to leave, so Fitz could get his rest and to avoid another long lecture on the proper time to wake up) to see if he wanted to go.

But as she opened her dorm room door, Jemma was surprised to find Fitz standing outside, fist raised as though he had been about to knock. He was wearing a bright red button up and a gold tie. Plopped askew on his head was a green paper Christmas crown. “Simmons!” He cried. “Hello.”

“Fitz, you look cheery,” Simmons said with a warm smile.

“Hardly compared to you,” Fitz remarked, gesturing toward her oversized Reindeer covered jumper. “Merry Christmas, Simmons.”

“Happy Christmas, actually.” Jemma corrected automatically. “But if you prefer Merry that's alright too-or do you not celebrate Christmas? I didn't even ask, I apologize-”

“Me and my Mum just use Merry, but if you like happy, that's fine too....”

They delved into a long, awkward silence. Finally, Jemma gestured inside. “Would you like to come in?”

“Sure,” Fitz said with a warm smile, heading inside. He took a deep breath and sighed wistfully. “Are those cookies I smell?”

“Been baking all night and morning,” Jemma answered, beaming proudly. “I bought a Christmas turkey as well, but it won't be done anytime soon.”

“Cookies are fine for now, Jemma. Is that tea I smell, too?”

“Absolutely,” Jemma replied, smiling even more broadly, which made Fitz grin as well.

 

After a long day of eating Santa-shaped cookies and waiting for the turkey to cook, Fitz and Jemma were enjoying themselves, having watched hours of different Christmas specials. It wasn't until about seven o' clock that Jemma gasped. “Fitz! Your Christmas special, you didn't miss it, did you?”

“Yeah I did,” He replied with a shrug. “They don't show it here the day it airs”

“Wha-well that's rubbish! What about American Whovians who want to see it? Or British Whovians who can't make it home in time for Christmas?” Jemma protested. She sighed. “There's got to be something we can do!”

“Well, we could try and find it to watch online,” he suggested, but the look on Jemma's face made him back away. “Or not.”

“I feel terrible now, Fitz. Your tradition-” she sighed. “I know it won't be new, or with your Scottish Doctor, but you left your Series One boxset here last time. We could re-watch _the Unquiet Dead._ It takes place at Christmas.”

Fitz felt the corners of his mouth twitch, but he resisted the smile. “Are you sure? I know you're not overly fond of the show-”

“I like it!” Jemma protested. “Maybe one day I'll even love it. Now go on, pop on our episode while I check dinner.”

 

 

An hour or so later, Fitzsimmons were sprawled out on the couch and floor, respectively. Fitz's eyelids were heavy, and he was starting to regret that third slice of turkey. “uhhhhhh........” he moaned. “I'm never eating again.”

Jemma leaned over from the couch, eyebrows raised. “Oh really?”

“Well at least not until tomorrow,” Fitz responded.

“That's better,” Jemma remarked knowing full well that Fitz would probably eat at least a dozen more cookies before he left that night. “Well, we've ate, we've watched Christmas movies and watched _Doctor Who._ What next?”

“Presents?” Fitz suggested with a yawn. “Or tangerines.”

“Presents,” Jemma retorted. “no one likes tangerines.”

Fitz sat up, reaching forward to grab a small, wrapped box from beneath the Christmas tree Jemma had bought the day she'd been at the mall. “I like tangerines,” he said quietly. “So, uh....how do we do this?”

“No idea,” Jemma admitted, sitting down on the floor next to him. “We could open them together? You open yours while I open mine?”

“Sounds good,” Fitz said, handing her the present before grabbing his own from underneath the tree.

Carefully, Jemma peeled away the brown wrapping, and pulled out a small, bright red velvet box. Carefully, she pulled open the top and nearly gasped at the sight inside. Lying inside the box, perfectly innocently, was a necklace with a beautifully carved and elegantly detailed silver and grey rose. “Oh, my.” she breathed.

“You like it?” Fitz asked uncertainly, half-way through unwrapping his gift. He had been less cautious with unwrapping as she had, clearly having trouble getting through the several layers of tape Jemma had put on the wrapping.

“Like it? I love it, Fitz! It's beautiful. Where on Earth did you find it?”

“Um, my Aunt Amelia makes jewlery. She's quite good at it, actually. I remembered you said you loved roses, so I asked her if she had any necklaces she could ship over. You really like it?”

“I love it.” Jemma assured him, taking the necklace out, oh so carefully, and clasping it around her neck. It didn't seem to weigh a thing. She gestured toward the gift in his hand. “Are you going to open yours, now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Fitz said, remembering. Jemma bit her lip nervously. After such a beautiful, perfect gift as the one he gave her, how on earth could her gift mean anything?

Fitz finally managed to get all of the wrapping off and a sound escaped his lips that was absolutely foreign to Jemma, coming from Fitz anyway. It was almost a _squeal._ “The TARDIS!” He cried, happiness written across his features. “Jemma, how on Earth did you find this?”

“Luck,” Jemma responded, thrown by the fact that he had called her by her first name, something he never did.

“I love it,” Fitz breathed. “I think I'm going to put it on my headboard when I get home.”

“I'm glad you like it,” Jemma sighed with relief. “Merry Christmas, Fitz.”

“Happy Christmas, Simmons.” he replied, grinning at her. The smile was infectious; soon, Jemma was grinning as well. 


End file.
